My comments concern the production and actors, or their characters, in lower-budget, nearly forgotten, American movies which have not totally held up well over time. My conversational writing style will include details which I find interesting, odd or funny. Generally, plots are not revealed, only how the characters fit into the plot or how they equate with real life as opposed to Hollywood's thinking.

Saturday, May 20, 2017

PAROLE, INC. (1948)

Equity
Pictures presents this uninteresting film about a federal
agent's undercover mission. The Orbit Production is split between studio sets and
location shooting with the obligatory train steam whistle sound track in the distance. The opening title credits are accompanied by
an Alexander Lazlo score, a B-movie composer and music
director for NBC Radio at the time. The music has a slight
documentary angst about it and the opening roll of introductory text
seems to support this. Yet the score could be used for many dramas
with a burlap background beneath the titles. l cannot imagine many
talked about the film after its initial run, although Michael O'Shea
was popular. This movie's lack of suspense or any surprises makes for
a long seventy-five minutes, including the minimum fist-a-cuffs
action.

The
film opens from O'Shea's hospital bed as we see him verbally, still gasping for air, transcribe his thoughts over a Dictaphone about his
recent investigation. His head looking like it was bandaged by Miss
Winthrop's third-grade class using masking tape indiscriminately.
While his character sets up the film's premise through flashbacks,
each time cutting back to his hospital bed, O'Shea's bandages begin
to look a tad more medically approved. The nurses got a real chuckle
with those third-graders!

O'Shea
goes undercover to flesh out the gang responsible for buying paroles
for convicted criminals. His lackluster voice-over narration has all
the raw toughness of Danny Kaye. Evelyn Ankers, owner of a dinner
club, employs several of her “boys” to do her bidding. The
film plays out in slow motion as it cuts between informative scenes
and the lull of O'Shea's narration. The Police Commissioner, Lyle
Talbot, looking particularly oily in a pencil thin mustache, arranges
a fake news headline which reassures the gang about O'Shea's supposed
criminal history. Soon enough we are back to the hospital and by now,
bed sores are probably O'Shea's biggest concern.

Turhan
Bey plays the gang's attorney—hunk
of Ankers—who
is the kingpin of buying paroles with inside help from
two crooked parole board members. In pinstriped suit and dark Vitalis
hair, Bey looks every bit the matinee idol and stands out from all
the other average looking people in the film. Harry Lauter, always on
hand for supporting role, plays the well-reasoned board member whose
discerning vote is constantly dismissed by the overriding committee.

The
excitement nearly crescendos. The ending is the least imaginative as
we quickly learn how O'Shea ended up in the hospital in the first
place. It also supplies the moviegoer with his current status. He is
finally out of that “Craftmatic” bed with dreams of going dancing
again.